Prophet's Demise: The Fatal Trio
by WhisperMaw
Summary: Harry James Potter. Perseus Jackson. Gregor the Overlander. All three were warriors in their own right. All three set out to defy the certain death foreseen by the prophets of their stories; Sybil Trelawney, the Oracle, Bartholomew of Sandwich.
1. Lightning Scars and Boys With Hooves

AN: You don't need to have read all 3 series. None of this belongs to me. Gregor and co. belong to Suzanne Collins. Harry and Co. Belongs to Joann Rowling and Percy Jackson and CO. belongs to Ricki Riordan :). ENJOY! UPDATE: I had this beta'd by Jajrulz (Thanks a ton!) And she's Australian so there are Australian spellings (which is totally awesome!) Chap. Two will be edited soon enough. And I'm working on chapter three.

Harry James Potter. Perseus Jackson. Gregor the Overlander. All three were warriors in their own right. All three set out to defy the certain death foreseen by the prophets of their stories; Sybil Trelawney, the Oracle, Bartholomew of Sandwich. The Fates, however, had a wholly different story to tell. The universe had not finished with those three yet. Not by a long shot.

_Perseus _

A splinter of light cut through the sliver of space between my eye lids. The sliver widened into a gap as I opened them wider and the familiar aching of unadjusted pupils took hold. I blinked rapidly and brought my hands to my face so I could shade my eyes from the daylight that had materialized around me. Instinctively, I scrambled to my feet and reached for my shirt pocket.

In the back of my mind I knew that there was supposed to be something important within it but all I found was a stick. Yes, that's right. I found a stick. I'll admit that it was a pretty nice stick. It seemed to be almost a foot long and a sort of light brown in colour. There was a short handle that was slightly broader than the sleek wood which made up the rest of the stick. The thing tapered to a sort of tip and along the side, a series of loopy, graceful letters were burned into it to make up a sort of word.

The letters did not look like the regular ABCs I'd been learning, or better put; trying to learn, since age five. The thing you need to know about me is I'm 'troubled'. Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD) and dyslexic. So when I looked at the stream of letters on the stick and they weren't swimming around…I was surprised. Shocked, actually, I was totally shocked. It was clear as a belle what it said, as well as what it meant. _Oulí̱ Astrapí̱_. Lightning Scar. Deep down in my gut, I had a feeling that I was reading Greek.

I scanned the scene that had unfolded around me. I didn't know how I'd gotten there. One second I'd been asleep and the next: _poof._ Strange, huh? The sun was high in the sky and the air was warm. As far as I could tell I was standing in a normal suburban neighbourhood. There was a shiny green street sign that read 'Privet Drive' in large white capital letters. My head began to spin with confusion. Where the devil was I? I let my knees collapse as I took a seat on the kerbside.

I guess I should give you a little background. My name is Perseus Jackson. When all this happened I was ten years old, going on eleven that August. Teachers have never really been a big fan of me since, like I said, I don't learn well. Literally, I've been kicked out of every school I'd attended so far. On top of that, weird things seem to happen to me. Like the dangerous sort of weird, not the awkward kind. For example, there was this guy who had one eye that followed me around on the playground. At least, I'm pretty sure he only had one eye. Eventually my teacher noticed he was stalking me and I never saw the guy again. When I tried to tell her he only had one eye she looked at me like I was insane. Then there was this one time, when I was even younger, I strangled a full grown snake during naptime. My mom was quite alarmed; finding me cuddling a serpent's carcass when she came to pick me up. So it's only natural, I suppose for me to have been jumpy. You know, showing up in some random neighbourhood that clearly isn't New York City, which by the way, is where my mom and I live.

"Petunia," I heard a deep, pig-like, British voice snort coming from the 4th house in. I jumped to my feet for the second time, being sure to bring the stick with me as I ran to hide myself behind the hedge. I made it just as two figures stormed out. One, a man, was large and stout with a head that connected right to his shoulders; no neck at all. The other, a woman, was tall and lanky with an unnaturally long neck and an abundance of blonde hair.

"What are we supposed to _do_, Vernon?" said the woman whose tone contrasted that of the man's entirely. Hers was high pitched and sounded quite similar to a squawking seagull but also British.

"We've already had one freak in this household. We do _not _need another. Good riddance that ungrateful little brat disappeared," the man, whom I presumed to be Vernon, had begun a crescendo that ended in quite a boisterous yell. "Let us be free of him!"

"Vernon, keep your voice down," said Petunia in a hushed tone. "He could be waiting right outside. You read the letter. We have to protect Dudley-kins. You know I don't like this any more than you do, but we must do it. If we don't—"

My foot had begun to fall asleep and the pins and needles were just too much for my distractible body to take, I shifted my weight and a twig snapped beneath my sneakers. For a moment I hoped the people hadn't heard it, but they whipped their heads around.

"You," said Petunia softly. "You're…" she pulled a sheet of yellowed paper out of her apron pocket. Scanning it quickly, she looked back up at me with piercing, but frightened green eyes and said: "You're Perseus Jackson."

_Gregor _

Gregor wished he could remember more. The woman who had picked him up from the bus station was hoping for her son, not him. Tears had welled up in her multi-coloured blue-green eyes as she'd beckoned Gregor over with a pale hand. She'd muttered something under her breath about the Fates messing with things as she led the way to her New York City apartment.

"You're Gregor, right?" she'd asked him tiredly as they climbed the steps of her tenant building.

"Look, I'm not supposed to…I hadn't been…" his drabbles were nearly as tangled as his puzzled mind.

"I know you're confused. But I need to know for certain that you are, in fact, Gregor." Murmured the lady weakly, she'd stuck a key in her door but waited for Gregor's answer before unlocking it.

"Yes, I'm Gregor. But who are…" before Gregor had even finished his question she had twisted the key and pushed open the door. The smell was absolutely revolting. Taking a step away from the foul odour emanating from the room, the boy stared at the woman in utter bewilderment. "I will not take another step until you tell me who you are."

"My name is Sally. Sally Jackson. Look I know you're confused," Sally's voice had a sweet, but exhausted tone that reminded Gregor of his own mother.

"My mother…" whispered a wide eyed Gregor. She was at home alone with Lizzie, Boots, and Grandma. Lizzie was off at sleep away camp but when she found at Gregor was missing she'd surely panic. Ever, since she was little Lizzie had been an uneasy girl, but since Gregor's father had disappeared it had escalated to absolute constant fear. And then there was little Boots. She was only a toddler but she possessed an inspiring curiosity and an enviable courage. Then, Boots was too young to understand horrible the world could be, so it didn't really count.

Sally hadn't heard Gregor but she'd pulled her door shut and took a seat with her back to the wall. Her face relaxed noticeably and he realized that whatever he had smelt, it wasn't because of her. She lived with someone else and Gregor had a feeling that whoever he was had a personality to match his scent.

"Do you have any family?" she asked solemnly, as if reading Gregor's mind.

He nodded. "We live here, in New York, just around the block actually. Not even a ten minutes' walk from here." His eyes wandered around the interior of the building. He mulled up the grit to tell her that he needed to leave; his mom would be worried. She only shook her head.

"Look," said Gregor, feeling the anxiety seep back into his skin. "I don't know how I got to the bus stop. I'd simply fallen asleep and woken up on a bus next to some funny looking red head who was just as shocked as I was. I don't know how you knew who I was but I need to get home. My mom needs me. You have no idea how hard things have been for us. You don't seem like the kind of person who would take a boy away from his mother." Gregor had been bantering frantically to no avail until his final statement. It was then that he saw Sally's face tense up.

"I have a son of my own," she said faintly, but very distinctly. "But there's a place I need to take you. If I had any other choice I'd take it. But there isn't another option here. If I decide not to take you, if I go against them, we could all die. Every single one of us; me, you, your mother, we'd all be gone. Including my son and I'm sorry but I can't let him die."

"Them?" Gregor questioned.

"I'm sorry, Gregor. I can't tell you that."

"Where do you _need_ to take me?"

"Another thing I cannot tell you," said Sally sadly.

"Is there anything you can tell me?" asked an exasperated Gregor. It was his final attempt at any information from the woman, who was proving to be less and less helpful by the second.

Sally nodded gravely. "My son, like you, was meant to do great things. I know there is one other boy, but details were scarce in their instructions."

"That lady is crazy: 'their'…What in the world. And me? Special? Clinically insane." thought Gregor, frustrated.

And so the two sat in utter silence for what felt like eternity before they heard the sharp rapping of a door at the bottom of the stairs. "That'll be Grover." Sally said feebly as she stood up and extended a hand to Gregor. Gregor glared at her, but took the hand. If it wasn't for the fact that they were in a mutually bad situation, Gregor would've absolutely hated Sally Jackson. No matter how much she reminded him of his own mother.

Gregor had meant to ask who Grover was but never got the chance. He recognized the awkward, goofy looking adolescent from the bus. What he did not recognize was the curls of animal hair growing out of the teenager from the belly button down. The thing bleated something about a boy named Percy but his exact words were drowned at by the scream Gregor had slipped.

The stairwell had begun to stink like wet animal. There were muddy, cloven, hoof prints everywhere. And Gregor was completely horrified. "What the heck is it?" he screeched. Then he remembered the book his dad had read him and Lizzie before his disappearance. "You're not Mr. Tumnus, are you?" The goat-man stared at Gregor with total horror.

"He was a faun. I am a satyr. He never existed, I clearly do. And you're not Percy Jackson." Grover baaed defensively.

Sally rolled her eyes and cut in "As much as I'd love to listen to you to argue over who you are and are not, you both need to get in the damn car."

Grover stared at Sally with wide eyes. "Yes mam." Gregor smartly followed suit. They all stepped out into the pouring rain. Gregor was soon to leave all he knew behind and deep down inside, he knew it.

So I'll do Harry's bit next. Basically, Harry is in Gregor's world. Gregor is in Percy's world and Percy is in Harry's world. R&R I love feedback. And uhm you definitely don't need to have read all three series to enjoy this. I promise. THANKS! :)

PS I now have a beta so there should be a lot fewer mistakes.

SHADOW BRAQS TZW

PPS T is Gregor's sword. Z is Harry's bolt and W is Percy's trident. Together they are the Deadly Trio. Anyone get the HP reference there?


	2. Tennis Balls and Piggish Boys

**AN: You don't need to have read all 3 series. None of this belongs to me. Gregor and co. belong to Suzanne Collins. Harry and Co. Belongs to Joann Rowling and Percy Jackson and CO. belongs to Ricki Riordan :). ENJOY! UPDATE: I had this beta'd by Jajrulz (Thanks a ton!) And she's Australian so there are Australian spellings (which is totally awesome!) And I'm working on chapter three still : ) Thanks for the reviews! I appreciate it!**

_Harry_

Harry's green eyes opened to find his face pressed against the screen mesh of an open window. He examined the room he had awoken inside. Not much different than the cramped cupboard under the stairwell that the boy had been living in the past ten years of his life, the bed chamber Harry had found himself in was small and cramped. Reaching his bony hand to his face he felt ridges of the tiny squares that had imprinted themselves into his skin due to the window screen. Harry pushed the taped bridge of his round framed glasses up his nose as he crawled forward on the lumpy mattress he noticed that the bedroom was simply made up of a bedframe and a mattress with a bookshelf crammed to one side. There was no space to stand up or walk around, one would enter the room by crawling onto the bed and exit the exact same way.

A smile had crept up on Harry's lips. He was simply overjoyed to be away from Privet drive and his horrendous Aunt and Uncle. Maybe if Harry had been raised in a real family he would've been upset with his seemingly impossible appearance in what Harry assumed, from the little he had read on the place, was New York City. However, Harry had been raised by Vernon and Petunia Dursley; two people who had a very low tolerance for him. Then there was Dudley; the swine-like cousin that had been using too-small-for-his-age Harry as a punching bag since as long as he could remember. So to Harry, being anywhere but Surrey, England was a very good thing.

As Harry revelled in his glorious luck a toddler came teetering around a corner down the hall. "Ge-go? Ge-go? I waked up! Ge-go do laundry now? Mama said 'Ge-go do laundry'." When the little girl took a look at Harry she fell straight back on her behind and stared at him. "You no Ge-go," she stated. "I Boots! Who you?"

Harry stared at the chubby two-year-old. "Harry," he said trying to keep the confused edge away from his voice. "I'm Harry Potter. Nice to meet you, Boots." His smile broadened as he reached out and shook the little girl's small hands.

"Ge-go no here?" she asked, her wispy brown eyebrows furrowing.

"Gego?" Harry inquired.

"My big brother," Boots spoke proudly and crossed her arms in front of her puffed out chest.

"I don't think he's here Boots," said Harry with genuine dismay.

"That ok. You do laundry?" Boots voice rose hopefully as she pointed a pudgy finger at the laundry basket sitting near the door.

Harry was actually quite well acquainted with doing the wash. The Dursley's made him do all of their clothes as well as his own. So he nodded and began to step toward the basket, leaving Boots where she stood.

Much to Harry's surprise, Boots grabbed ahold of his pointer finger and said: "Boots come too."

"Right," the boy nodded. "Boots comes too." With that the two headed toward apartment's egress. Boot's released Harry's hand and latched onto a neon yellow tennis ball that had been sitting near the laundry.

Harry passed by a couple of other doorways while Boot's led him to the laundry room. A single door was cracked open and Harry saw the weather-beaten face of an older woman. The familiar smell of cat litter wafted from inside the opened apartment and Harry was immediately reminded of Mrs. Figgs.

Mrs. Figgs was the cat crazy woman whom Harry was forced to stay the day with every year on Dudley's birthday. Harry absolutely hated going. Mrs. Figgs was a strange old lady. She kept and stuffed the carcasses of her cats and every time Harry went to her flat she would force him to listen to stories about the felines.

Boots waved at the woman and the woman waved back but her eyes were fixed on Harry. He just barely caught her whisper his name as they passed by her. Harry felt his blood chill in apprehension. How had she known his name?

Finally they arrived at the tenant building's laundry room. It had a series of washers and driers in neat rows, though the machines themselves weren't in good condition.

"Thwo?" said Boots, handing Harry the tennis ball. Tossing it lightly, Harry watched the ball bounce off a wall and roll into the next row of machines. He began loading the dark clothes. Boots came bounding back to Harry with the ball but instead of giving him the ball she lightly touched the blistered zig-zag that marked Harry's forehead.

"Ow. Ouch," she whimpered. "Har-wee need boo-boo bunny?"

"No Boots. That's an old ouch-y. From when I was a baby," Harry frowned at the half-forgotten memory. Boots once again handed Harry the ball and once again Harry tossed it. This time it rolled behind one of the washers that were pushed almost completely against the wall. Harry watched Boots crawl behind it to retrieve the ball and he waited expectantly for her to crawl back out. She never did.

"Boots?" Harry called out. There was no reply. The tennis ball was nowhere to be found and neither was the girl. It was then that Harry noticed the air vent. It was wider than normal and the grate had been wrenched off. He stuck his head within the vent hoping that Boots had simply crawled inside. What if he'd lost another boy's sister? The air around Harry began to fill with a strange vapour-like silver mist. A breeze ruffled his already messy head of black hair. Suddenly, a strong current seemed to rap itself around Harry like a boa constrictor. And then, he fell forward.

_Perseus_

I'm not going to lie here. I was seriously beginning to grow tired of answering Vernon and Petunia's pointless questions. How many times could I possibly tell them my name, you know? They'd grabbed me by my wrists and dragged me into the 4thhouse in on Privet Drive, the same one they'd come out of and forced me to sit down at their dining room table.

"Your name?" Vernon would ask.

"Percy Jackson," I'd answer.

"Age?" Petunia would ask

"Ten," I'd say.

"Family?" Vernon would press.

"My dad was lost at sea. Just me, my mom, and my step dad, but my step dad is a serious jerk."

The interrogation went on like that until a chubby boy who looked just like his father; pink skin, piggish watery eyes, and nearly no neck, came bounding down the steps whining.

"Mummy!"

"Yes, Dudley-Wudley?" Petunia said. She was dripping with fake sweetness.

"Who is this?" squealed the boy demandingly. He had immediately reminded me of Smelly Gabe, my step dad.

"His name is Percy," barked Vernon, glaring contemptibly at me.

"And why is he here, Mummy?" he asked, stamping his foot like I did when I was younger when my mom wouldn't let me have the blue M&M pillow I wanted or the candy at the candy shop.

"He's just here for a couple of day, Duddles. Then he'll be gone. I thought you'd be happy that Harry wasn't here anymore." Petunia was clearly trying to calm 'Duddles' down.

"Harry's gone?" he asked. His eyes had lightened hopefully and his arms had come uncrossed.

"Who's Harry?" I asked, if Dudley hated him than I'd probably be the guy's best mate. I'd already decided that this pudgy guy wasn't going to be a cup of sweet tea.

"That is none of your concern boy," growled Vernon. "Now Dudley, why don't you run along with Piers? He came knocking for you earlier but you were busy watching your telly."

Dudley rolled his eyes and stamped out of the room, obviously upset that he wasn't allowed to listen in on me. Vernon followed Dudley to the front door and slammed it shut the minute his son had left. He then beckoned for me to come to him.

"You can't be serious," I said, taken aback by the look of dead seriousness on Vernon's face as he pulled open the cupboard under the staircase. Inside was a bed and that was all. My room at home in New York was no penthouse but it definitely wasn't a closet either. "You're serious." I concluded glumly.

"Now, while you're here, you are to make yourself scarce. Dudley is obviously traumatized by what's going on here. You are not to ask me, nor are you to ask Petunia, any questions. In fact, I'd prefer if you didn't talk at all."

Resisting the urge roll my eyes I shook my head 'yes' and Vernon shut me into my 'room' if you can even call it that.

I spent most of my time sitting inside that tiny room trying to remember something. It was like taking a history test and _knowing _that you know the answer but not being able to recollect a thing about it. I found it to be quite frustrating. Dudley left me alone for the most part. Whoever the Harry kid was he obviously hadn't been defending himself too well. After I'd punched Dudley and his gang of idiots in the stomachs they all had walked off mumbling about the Potter kid being less painful.

Nothing really interesting happened until the mail came early on a Friday morning. Vernon had asked me to go get it and I'd given Dudley a threatening look, he ended up getting it, much to Vernon's discontent. Dudley handed the letters to his father one by one, until he reached a thick yellowed envelope with emerald green writing on the front. I tried to make out what the front said but my dyslexia caused the words to take nosedives and barrel rolls.

"This one's yours boy." Vernon said gruffly, pushing the envelope toward me. I took it and carefully tore up the flap. What I found was my worst nightmare. What seemed like hundreds of pages of cursive, ink black words spilled out. I just stared at them for a moment before looking up helplessly at Vernon.

"Well," Vernon scowled at me. "Are you going to read it?"

"I…I can't." I stammered softly. My cheeks reddened with embarrassment.

"What do you mean you can't? Vernon's scowl had darkened considerably.

"I…I y-you see…" my face must've been blood red by then. Dudley was snickering at me while he stuffed his face with bacon and Petunia was simply rolling her eyes.

"Spit it out boy," grumbled Vernon.

"I'm dyslexic." Dudley laughed which sent bacon flying across the table. It hit me square in the eye and I found myself staring at his glass of orange juice. Something tugged at the pit of my stomach and the next thing I knew Dudley was wiping the juice from his eyes. "It's not funny," I grumbled.

Vernon grumbled and mumbled about inconveniences before picking up the letter. I stared intently at him waiting for him to begin.

"HOGWARTS SCHOOL  
>of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY<p>

Headmaster:Albus Dumbledore  
>(Order of Merlin,First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,<br>Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Jackson,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.  
>Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.<p>

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall  
>Deputy Headmistress<p>

HOGWARTS SCHOOL  
>of WHICHCRAFT and WIZARDRY<p>

UNIFORM  
>First-year students will require:<br>sets of plain work robes (black)  
>plain pointed hat (black) for day wear<br>pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)  
>winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)<br>Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags.

COURSE BOOKS  
>All students should have a copy of each of the following:<p>

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)  
>by Miranda Goshawk<p>

A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot

Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling

A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi  
>by Phyllida Spore<p>

Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them  
>by Newt Scamander<p>

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection  
>by Quentin Trimble<p>

Hogwarts, A History by Professor Garino

OTHER EQUIPMENT

1 wand  
>1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)<br>1 set glass or crystal phials  
>1 telescope<br>1 set brass scales

Students may also bring and owl OR a cat OR a toad.

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS."

"I…I'm a Wizard?" It would explain the strange things but something about it just didn't _feel _right.

"What did I say about asking questions?"

"Not to." I mumbled.

"That's right. Now back to your cupboard." Vernon demanded, shooing me away from the table. I walked down the hallway and pushed open the door. It was then that I noticed how much I truly missed my mom.

Hope You enjoyed. Feel free to give suggestions about how Percy should get on with Ronald and Hermione or how Harry will deal with Boots or Gregor will deal with Annabeth. :) I appreciate it! I'm aware Percy isn't the right age. All of that will be addressed in later chapters. As I said, now I have a beta so mistakes should be far fewer. It's most likely still not perfect. It should be better, however.

Shadow Braqs TZW


	3. Crappy Driving and Talking Bugs

**So, I wanted to get this up before I went to camp. It hasn't been beta'd so there's bound to be at least a handful of mistakes. I hope you like it! Tell me what you think! I actually have 'The Prophecy of Fate' all written out for Harry in Gregor's world. All characters belong to their respective authors: Rick Riordan, Joann Rowling, and Suzanne Collins. They're all 'totally awesome'! Please let me know what you think. I love reviews!**

**Thanks,**

**Shadow Braqs TZW**

**P.S. I'll be replacing this with the edited version ASAP!**

_Gregor_

"Gabe's gonna kill me," Sally murmured as she stuck her keys into the ignition of a shiny red Camaro and twisted. The vehicle rumbled as it came to life and the exhaust pipe began to exert the all too familiar black smoke. Sally swiveled in her seat and looked at the boys expectantly. Both Grover and Gregor had scrambled inside the Camaro and buckled themselves into the backseat. Grover hadn't stopped gaping at the brunette beside him since they'd pulled away from Manhattan and begun to speed away from the city.

"Is there a problem?" asked Gregor. There was a slight, unintentional bight to his tone; he genuinely wanted to know why the half-breed was staring at him like _he _was the one with hooves.

"Yes, actually, there is. Who, in the Gods name, are you?"

"Me? I'm Gregor." Grover gave a laugh that sounded more like a distressed sheep than any snicker he had ever heard. "What?" Gregor asked half offended.

"It's nothing. But you know Gregor and Grover sort of sound alike is all." Gregor looked at the red-head unblinkingly, cocking his head to the left. "It's stupid…I know…" Grover trailed off. He had turned tomato red.

"Ow," Sally had slammed on the brakes and came to a screeching halt in front of a rickety, old, red stoplight causing Gregor to lurch forward. He peeled his forehead off of the back of the passenger side seat and looked at Grover. "You mentioned a boy named Percy earlier…Who is he?" he asked hoping that maybe this Percy character had something to do with his waking up in another lad's place.

"Percy…He's…Well he's a guy who's very special…Very powerful, you see?" Grover was clearly struggling to explain anything to Gregor.

"No, not really," said Gregor impatiently.

"Look, I can't really tell you anything. Not yet. It…it wouldn't make any sense." Grover had pulled out a tuna can from the blue backpack that had been sitting in his lap. Gregor stared at him with disgust a he took a bite out of it. Shaking his head, Gregor looked away from the other boy and pressed his nose up against the window.

They'd driven onto some sort of long and winding road that was littered with potholes and road kill. Everywhere Gregor looked there were trees; oak, spruce, fir...every kind imaginable. It had begun to thunder and rain had come pouring down. Gregor noted the curious lack of lightning as Sally continued to fly around turns. Grover had begun to look a little green.

Gregor had wondered if the lightning had finally bothered to show up when he, Sally, and Grover went flipping into a ditch. _Literally blasted off the road…_he thought. For the second time that evening Gregor pulled his head away from the leather of the seat in front of him. Grover looked unconscious and Sally was frantically trying to get out of the car.

"What the hell just happened?" Gregor asked, trying to keep the fear out.

"No time," Sally said frantically. She finally had crawled out of the window like a NASCAR driver. "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon, Gregor. Get out, quickly," Pleaded Sally. Gregor did his best to obey, though his door had been jammed completely down into the mud. As soon as he'd gotten himself clear he'd gone back for Grover. Sally was impatiently tapping her foot and glancing around nervously, like she was expecting someone to be coming after them. There was an ominous low roar coming from a large clearing to their north. Gregor and Sally had both immediately whipped their heads around.

"What is that?" At first look Gregor had thought it was a freakishly tall, bulky man (like Kobe Bryant) with a really fuzzy hood. Upon closer examination, he realized that the man would have to be unrealistically large for it to be a human and that hood couldn't possibly be a hood at all; it had to be real hair.

"Minotaur." Sally breathed. She was panting a little which reminded Gregor a great deal of Lizzie whenever she panicked at home.

"Mino-what?" he knew what she meant but he didn't quite believe her.

"Minotaur. Now you need to go, it's you it'll be after. Do you see that hill over there?" she was pointing toward the start of the clearing that the monster had come from. At its summit there was a pine tree loftier than any Gregor had seen before.

"What about you?" Sally may not have been his mother but Gregor wasn't about to let her die.

"Look, you need to go. Take Grover and run. Once you get over that hill you'll be safe. This is the only way I'll get my son back. You have to go. If you ever want to see your own mother again…" That was all it took for Gregor.

He grabbed Grover who, up until that point, had been propped up against the car. Moving as quickly as he could whilst dragging the satyr by his cloven hooves; Gregor made his way towards the pine tree at the top of the hill. Grover had begun to moan something about food when the Minotaur locked its terrible sights on Gregor.

"Crap," he mumbled, Gregor knew he was in for something way over his head.

"Gregor, when it begins to charge, jump out of the way. It's hard for them to change directions once they've started!" Sally shouted from down the hill.

Grover seemed to have come to his senses, he was bleating incessantly about going to get help.

The Minotaur had begun to paw at the muddy forest floor, splaying wetted sod everywhere. It lowered its massive head so that the curved horns jutting from the crown of the hairy head were pointed straight at the ten-year-old boy's heart. Gregor almost completely froze up when it came running at him, he jumped out of the way just in time. The tip of the horn had just barely grazed the side of his face. Sticky red blood had begun to ooze from his cheek but Gregor was too shocked to feel the pain. After dodging a couple of more charges his good fortune had run out. Out of sheer luck the monster's horns hadn't punctured anywhere but Gregor had been knocked backwards. He hit the ground with great enough force to whip his head back onto a large piece of granite. If adrenaline hadn't been flowing through Gregor's veins just then he would not have been able to get back to his feet. Something happened in that moment; something that had never happened before. There was a roaring in his ears. His eyesight had splintered, allowing him to see the creature's weak spot. He'd lost all control of his body; he felt like he'd been possessed. Vaguely, Gregor remembered ripping a horn off of the Minotaur and driving it into its heart. There was a shower of golden light and Sally had disappeared as the dying bull-man had crumbled away. And then, all went black

_Harry _

A book that Harry had once overheard Petunia, his aunt, reading to Dudley, his cousin, was the first thing that had come to mind. It was about a little girl named Alice who'd fallen down a rabbit hole. She'd kept falling and falling until she'd found herself in a magical world. Harry attempted to recall the title of the story but he couldn't.

His mind began to wonder if he would ever hit the bottom. The plummet had seemed to stretch on for many minutes; Harry had come to terms with the fact that he was probably going to die. He hoped desperately that Boot hadn't fallen down here as well.

He shut his green eyes and awaited the deadly impact that was imminent. Harry felt his momentum decrease and wondered if he'd already hit the ground; if his death had been quick and he was moving on. He slowly opened his eyes, vastly hoping that he wouldn't see what he was expecting to.

What Harry saw wasn't at all what he thought he would. The silver wisps that had engulfed him at the surface of whatever hell he'd unfortunately been sucked into were even thicker than they had been. They were pushing him up; trying to resist the pull of gravity. Their attempts were futile, gravity was still winning. They had, however, managed to slow his descent.

When Harry's feet had finally settled onto a cool, smooth, hard surface the wisps dissipated. Since they'd been the only source of light during his fall, Harry found himself suffocating in the total darkness. He groped around frantically for the small sister of 'Gego' but she was nowhere to be found. Harry was positive that his endless fall down to this desolate underworld had been in vain, at least until he heard a mysterious clicking coming from somewhere in front of him.

Harry felt along the damp, rocky walls of the tunnel until he came to a slit in the stone. He managed to wriggle himself through the sliver of space which opened up to become a wide cavern. Harry was able to see again though the light was faint. The space was wide and the canopy was high and made of rugged black stone. Its walls were smoothed and the floor was even.

Consumed in studying his dimly lit surroundings, Harry didn't even notice the subtle tapping of tiny feet or the rhythmic skittering that followed. It wasn't until a small voice had mispronounced his name in the way that only a child could, did Harry notice his company.

"Meet Temp," said the little girl.

Harry resisted the urge to scream when he looked where Boots was pointing. The thing was unnaturally large which showed off the grotesque details of the creature that the naked eye couldn't see with on a normally sized one. It was a cockroach. And it was not the only one. There were many. Harry swallowed the cry of terror that had been welling in his lungs. If he let it out, Boots might become frightened too, which clearly she wasn't yet.

"And Tick, and Sec, and Min…" Boots continued to bombard Harry with many more names before she turned back to the bugs. "You being rude," she pouted. "Tick, Temp. Say hello," her short, stocky arms were crossed angrily in front of her chest.

The two roaches on either side of Boots in the front of the group opened there mouths and let out a series of clicks that resembled English. "Hello Overlander,"

"Overlander?" questioned Harry.

"You are from the world with the ever shining light?" chirped the roach on the left.

"You mean the sun?" Harry cocked his head curiously.

"We know not what it is called," cricked the roach on the right.

"Well, my name is Harry. Harry Potter," the boy informed them, not wanting to be referred to as 'Overlander' any longer. It sounded strange and alien. And it made Harry even more aware that he was hundreds or possibly even thousands of meters below the ground.

"Ar-we?" the roach on the left attempted.

"Har-wee," corrected Boots.

"No, Har-ry," he said slowly and pointedly.

There was a moment of silence before the roach on the right said, "Harry."

He nodded and looked around at the herd of cockroaches. Some were carrying torches whilst others had baskets strapped to their backs. Looking back and forth between the two roaches at the front Harry tried to recall their respective names. Was it Tick and Tock? Or was it Tempo and Rhythm? Finally Harry just turned to the one on the left.

"Where are you headed?" he asked hoping that they knew of a way out of the dismal darkness.

"Regalia," chirped the roach to Harry in response.

"It is the city of the Humans," chattered the right roach.

Harry sighed with relief. There were humans in the dank world of Under. "Can you take us to them?"

"We move quickly. The Princess may ride but you are too large, you must come on foot. If you can keep pace, then we may," said the left roach.

"Princess?" Harry knew that they had to be referring to Boots but he wanted to confirm. Sure enough one of the creatures bowed its antennae towards the toddler.

Keeping up was not going to be a problem for Harry. He'd spent ten years running away from his bully of a cousin. "Alright Boots. Climb up," he extended a hand that she ended up not needing.

"Ready Temp?" Boots asked after scrambling onto the back of the roach on the left. Harry wondered how she had been able to tell that roach from the next; they all looked identical. But before Harry had time to ponder the thought too deeply Temp had clicked:

"Yes, Princess,"

They scuttled the opposite direction of the slit Harry had come in from. At first the trip had been easy. The stone had been flat and the bugs had been travelling straight. That had begun to change approximately five minutes into the run. The surface had begun to jet up and down to form hills and valleys. The cockroaches had begun to make sharp turns. Just when Harry had thought he wouldn't be able to keep pace with his company they had stopped at a black veil covering a sort of doorway.

One by one the crawlies had squeezed through the barely-large-enough arch. When it was Harry's turn he realized that it wasn't a veil surrounding the entrance. They were butterflies. Or they were moths. Harry wasn't quite sure which; he couldn't remember the distinctions of the two species.

Squinting both of his emerald eyes Harry tried to adjust to the brightness of the huge chasm he'd just entered. Compared to sunlight the chamber was no competition. However, Harry had become familiar with the near pitch blackness he'd dealt with since arriving.

Harry looked down at his feet. He seemed to be standing on some sort of moss. It was quite springy and Harry had a feeling that it was supposed to be a substitute for grass. High above his head the pitch was ringed with bleachers. The bleachers were full of extremely pale, white-haired people. They were all cheering and for a split second Harry thought that the cheers were meant for him, but then he noticed that a flock of birds were flying around. A ball went soaring from one of the birds to the other and Harry realized that there had to be people _riding _the birds. At least, he assumed they were birds. He came to see that they were far from aviaries. They were bats.

"Quidditch," Harry mumbled. He didn't know where the world had come from nor did he have a clue as to what it meant. He simply knew that whatever was happening over top of him reminded him of something. Like something from a dream that he couldn't quite recall.


End file.
